In the recent hours of sheltering with the Winchester brothers, the angel Castiel found himself in search for a higher form on entertainment. And what better than to take advantage of the services found in cheap motel rooms. In the midst of sin was where the angel sought himself in the middle of the night. To much of Dean's dismay, the angel demanded to share a bed with the elder brother that night. None of that seemed stranger than the norm, coming from the unusual nature of the humanly-confused angel. Therefore, Dean fell asleep without any worries, and clung desperately to his side of the bed.
Castiel, though, into the late hours of the night, found himself staring at the nicotine stained ceiling of the cheap motel room, recounting his last few hours of humanly entertainment—Pornography. And as mentioned before, the angel found himself in a state of shameless sin as he recounted the scenes he witnessed.
In a hurry to proceed, Cas rotated onto his side, rolling over so he was face-to-face with the sleeping Dean. The darker haired male stared intently in the dark, making out the defined shadows of Dean's face as it was half-smothered by his choice of pillows. "Dean," Castiel didn't bother to whisper, but continue to repeat the Winchester's name until he finally responded.
"Cas, shut up and sleep." He mumbled angrily into the linen, not even bothering to open his eyes before he resumed a half-finished snore.
Castiel thought over his motions before they were performed, reaching up a hand and pressing it to the side of Dean's face before quickly leaning in to press his lips to the other male's. Dean was caught in a state of surprise, and confusion, suddenly awake and alert to the sensation against his face. He was being kissed by an angel of the lord.
Said angel didn't hold back with his actions, the kiss sloppy and malpracticed, but that didn't stop him. Dean was too much in a daze to complain, his eyebrows furrowed as they closed once again, feeling the angel's tongue beg for entrance into his clamped mouth. In the heat of the moment, Dean's mouth opened to allow admission of the stray tongue, wrestling around with his own. The hand that practically gripped his face lowered, shakily trickling down Dean's neck and landing on a bare, muscled shoulder, fingers teasing circles into the sleep-warmed skin.
While Castiel's tongue spoke clearly of confidence, his fingers bore the burden of uncertainty. Fingers shakily and nervously mapped out their course as they crossed Dean's bare chest; warm fingers leaving trails of fire, nails gently scratching and practically begging. Dean was beginning to lean into the touch, torso rolling with the heated touches, almost welcoming it despite his bewildered state.
The kiss increased, Dean's teeth gently grazing the angel's lips, biting and sucking—enjoying everything that was being offered. A small, almost inaudible gasp was released between the angel's clenched teeth, fingers tightening against the small of Dean's back, pressing himself closer, their chests touching. In the same motion, Castiel, pressed his hips to Dean's, feeling their obvious arousals between each other's bodies.
That was it.
Dean broke the kiss, snaking his hands between the two, pressing against the angel's chest. His eyes searched Castiel's face bewilderedly, confused as to what just happened.
"Jesus, Cas, what has gotten into you?"
Castiel's gaze was drained: eyes glossed over, lips swollen, and cheeks hot and red, even in the dark. Dean's breath came out in little labored gasps, hands pressed against Cas' quickly rising chest, and the other male's fingers clinging tightly to his hips.
The question that was asked was not answered, instead, interrupted by a sound opposite of their bed. The second mattress on the other side of the room began to stir, blankets moving to reveal a set of brunette bed-head. Sam sat up, his gaze hard and angry toward the two lust driven boys in the bed next to his.
"Guys, please, you could at least have the decency to do that when I'm not in the same room."
At that, Cas sat up, turning to face the disheveled Sam. "But, I learned that from the Pizza Man," Dean snickered, chewing on his fist as Castiel justified himself. "And when the Pizza Man started kissing the woman, the woman's husband began to kiss her from behind—" Cas stopped, Sam's expression went from angry, to grave, "Would you like to be the husband?" Dean's fist dropped, and hysterical fits of laughter departed his heaving chest.
Sam quickly gathered a handful of pillows, pulling a blanket from underneath him and waddled toward the door.
"I'm sleeping in the impala."
SLAM.
"I'll take that as a no," Castiel said flatly, Dean's laughter yet and unable to cease.